Upon Closer Inspection
by CrazyObsessive
Summary: Edgeworth unwillingly contemplates his feelings towards Phoenix Wright. Mild swearing. Implied Edgeworth/Phoenix ONESHOT


**A/N: I wrote this my Sophmore year. Everytime I was bored after a test, I would continue this until I felt it was done. It's just a simple ficlet about Edgeworth realizing his 'unecassary feeling' towards Phoenix. Feel free to leave a review. :)**

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**The soft tapping of the rain drops that hit the window beside Edgeworth were slowly but surely putting him to sleep. He lied on his plush, white, living room sofa with his eyes closed and his hands neatly folded on his stomach. The weather had been typical that late November: always gloomy with a chance of rain, and the chances of a shower that particular week was extremely likely. Edgeworth didn't mind the rain though. In fact, he looked forward to it every now and again. It relaxed him; the way the rain fell on the slick concrete and glass windows. And today he needed that relaxation, whether he liked it or not.

_Ever since that damn man appeared…how long has it been exactly?_

The prosecutor slowly ran a hand over his pale face, as if trying to wipe away his busy conscious. To his dismay, the thoughts continued.

_Fifteen years…the fifteen years I will never get back…_

Edgeworth closed his eyes, resting his hands behind his head.

_Wright…why did you come back into my life? Fifteen years is a long time…why do you insist on following me everywhere I go?_

Miles' stomach did somersaults before sinking to a newer level of despair. He clenched his hands into fists until his knuckles lost all color in them. He returned his hands to his lap after realizing his anger was only damaging the back of his head. Even then, his mind spun, and he continued to fight the ongoing war in his head.

_You're just a phantom! Nothing but a remnant of my long forgotten past! I ignored you whenever you sent me letters all those years ago, and I still ignore you till' this day!_

"What more will it take?" Miles growled through gritted pearly whites, running a sweat stricken palm over his face again. It was stiff, cold – almost as if the blood in his face were completely drained away. The rapid beating of his own heart was certainly more deafening than the tapping of the rain on the windowpane at this point. Miles Edgeworth was bent and broken beyond all repair, all because of one other man.

_Phoenix Wright…Phoenix…Wright…_

His heart suddenly skipped a beat at the mere mention of his old friend's name.

_Why? Why do you have such control over me? Those clear, blue eyes of yours…_

"No!" Miles grabbed one of the two pillows his head rested on and slammed into his face before he could hear the unbearable in his head. Nevertheless, his heart never seized to race.

_Your sheepish grin…jet black hair…determined spirit…God I'm going __**mad!**__ I hate this man! Phoenix Wright! How I hate you! How __**hate**__ you…how I-_

Edgeworth lifted the pillow off his face and shot upwards. There was a sudden crash of lightening outside. His breathing was jagged, and cold sweat covered his brow. He glanced out the window that lied adjacent to the foot of the sofa, and to his misfortune, he wasn't able to see much from his position, but he did see how hastily the rain was falling now.

_Ah, yes…it's raining outside. Almost forgot._

Aside from the rain and Edgeworth's heavy breathing, the room was deathly quiet. Miles just desperately wanted to sleep away his thoughts and now apparent feelings. He was used to running in circles with his own thoughts, but none (other than ones pertaining to DL-6 anyway) have ever had such an emotional and physical impact on him.

The prosecutor shut his eyes, only to have seen a vivid picture of a certain smiling attorney.

"Damnit all!"

Miles couldn't take this anymore. He rushed to his feet and stomped towards the hallway bathroom. He slammed the door open with unnecessary force and halted abruptly in front of the pedestal sink, one hand gripping the edge of the basin and the other quickly turning one of the faucet's knobs. When the water poured out of the faucet, he immediately began to splash his features with the ice cold water, trying to wash away anymore of his unwanted thoughts.

But Miles being the unfortunate man he was, his mind only began to whir even more. Eventually, he gave in. He stopped dead in front of the white basin, looking lost in it wide mouth. Unwillingly, he looked up to see his sullen reflection in the mirror ahead of him, and to his own surprise, he didn't wince in disgust as to what befell his eyes. He just stood there staring – staring at a man he longer knew.

_Look at what you do to me…_

Two drops of water fell alternately from the tips of Edgeworth's soaked bangs.

_Make me go to the extent of frantically punishing myself by splashing water on me…how completely and utterly foolish._

That was when he noticed how heavy and sunken in his eyes looked. Dark bags were forming underneath each eye as well, looking almost as if someone smudged dark eye shadow there. Or kind of like how someone had punched him in the face and given him two black eyes.

Truth be told though, this wasn't the first time he found himself thinking about Phoenix. All week long, these strange visions of him and his friend…being together in a park, or a restaurant…holding hands, exchanging loving words and expressions…their earnest lips brushing against one another; they never faltered, and he was certainly losing many hours of sleep for it. These insights were finally taking a heavy toll on the prosecutor.

Edgeworth let out a sigh and weakly ran a hand through his peaked bangs, a habit he was known for whenever he was spent. He focused on his reflection in the mirror for a long time in silence. What he saw on the outside of him was alien, and frankly, he didn't have much to say about it. There was nothing left to say, or even think, after all. The great, demon prosecutor Miles Edgeworth was surrounded – under siege – by his own conjecture and emotions. He inwardly admitted to himself that for once in these long fifteen years, he was powerless. Not powerless to an outside force, but rather, himself.

The corner of Miles' mouth suddenly crept upward, forming a smirk. With a hand still in one of his bangs, he intensively eyed himself in the mirror.

"There's no point in fighting a losing battle, now is there…?"


End file.
